


Moderately Functional

by martinisandart



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Another party, Arent they the cutest, F/M, Jack is soft, Phryne is a loveable drunk don’t @ me, drunk phryne, everyone is soft, mr butler knows everything, phrack - Freeform, prompt, soft, that swallow brooch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-19 23:10:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19982104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martinisandart/pseuds/martinisandart
Summary: No men have been up the stairs in months, and with another party being hosted Phryne isn’t quite herself. Dot calls it pining, Phryne calls it a reason to drink, and the inspector calls it turning up late, simply because Collins wanted to see his love... but maybe he cares more than that.





	Moderately Functional

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:
> 
> A: Are you sober?   
> B: I’m moderately functional.  
> A: I’ll take that as a no.

The Victorian Police force’s Detective Inspector Jack Robinson had always known that Phryne Fisher had a penchant for drinking and socialising, from the very moment he met her. He knew that she’d be one of those women who tended to be out dancing till all hours, gulping wine like a fish for up until midnight, mingling with men wherever she went, yet still be able to return home for a nightcap of whiskey once she was done, her hair mused and messy, beads and feathers trailing in her wake, along with a cloud of French perfume.  
Occasionally, a random man would follow her through the doors, his eyes trained on her as if there were no one else in the world that even existed, following her up to her boudoir, having their way, and then leaving as soon as the early morning light made its way through the heavy drapes that covered her windows. The men, as much as they enjoyed thinking they had the upper hand over a flighty socialite, never truly did- they were only coming and going of her own accord, never being invited to stay for breakfast, and certainly never playing the piano for her whilst they sung popular jazz songs. They were never introduced to the staff, or given the luxury of spending time with this fine woman during the day, nor did they have her number and a firm line of contact. They were lovers of hers, in the very simplest sense. They came and they went like a summer wind- around for seconds, and barely noticed. They were men of chance, men of luck- men who barely knew what had hit them before it was gone again, pulled swiftly from their fingers, clothes thrown at them and sent on their way.  
It had been quite a while, however, since a ‘simple’ lover had made their way through the doors of Phryne Fisher’s boudoir, the raven haired woman thought as she ran a brush through her hair gently, smoothing it out and adding her trademarked silver headpiece. She let out an almost inaudible sigh, and twiddled with the swallow pin that was stuck to her scarf, the pale blue fabric playing off perfectly against the darker colour of her silk dress. The pattern of silver threads that made their way through the fabric, every move that Phryne made was a sparking, magical one.  
As she smoothed on her usual red lipstick, pressing her lips together and blowing herself a kiss, her mind wandered. There hadn’t been a man in so long because, well. There was one almost impossible man who she had had her sights on for a while, a long while, but unlike most, he was somewhat immune to her charms- sure, he seemed distracted when she perched on the edge of his desk, legs extended and feeding him gratin, and of course, there were fleeting glances from him drinking in her looks, up and down during their evening nightcaps, but he still wasn’t quite... hers. There had always been something that kept the Honourable Phryne Fisher from settling down, but in the last year, through these cases, from knowing this man, something in her heart had changed- she didn’t want an endless stream of meaningless lovers, she wanted him, and him alone.  
“Miss?”  
Her stream of thought was broken by Dot poking her head around the door, darling Dot, the one who organised her life and made sure she was perfectly okay.  
“Yes Dot?”  
Phryne stood and shook out her hair, smoothing it once again, and then leant on her vanity.  
“They’re waiting for you downstairs, Miss. Everyone started turning up early, they’re asking for you. It is your party, after all.”  
Phryne rolled her eyes.  
“You can’t avoid everyone all night, Miss, besides, you always have fun, and meet men, and-“  
A slow nod fell in Dot’s direction.  
“Well, if they’re waiting.”  
Dot moved to the side, and Miss Fisher left the room, a whirlwind of silver and blue, her heels clicking on the floor as she reached the entryway, and then her slightly-too-high voice could be heard greeting guests, embracing them and accepting the glass of champagne that Mr. Butler offered her. 

Dot stood leaning against the door a little longer, thinking over her employer’s recent behaviour. There had been a rather large increase in lack of desire to socialise, or spend time with large amounts of people, and her whole demeanour had seemed less sparkly. Then again, thought Dot to herself, when she was on cases, working alongside the detective inspector and Hugh, when she was driving her car, or even just looking at case papers in the DI’s office, she seemed so much more herself: brighter, bubblier, more Phryne.  
Dot shrugged. It was probably nothing. With that, she closed the door to Miss Fisher’s boudoir, and smoothing her dress, went downstairs. She was sure Mr. Butler would need a hand with drinks, and the canapés weren’t going to make themselves! 

Phryne, however, had nothing on her mind at all- it felt almost empty. She was mingling, throwing back champagne by the glassful, talking to every high and mighty social figure who she had been forced into many situations with before due to her dear aunt Prudence, and having to listen to their endless stories about who, what, and why they were clearly better than everyone else in the room.  
Within half an hour, she was sick of it; within an hour she was bored to tears. Even with Mac being there, forcing her to laugh every so often, there were no welcome distractions, and every glass of champagne was going straight to her head, each mystical cocktail that Mr. Butler handed her tasted slightly too sweet and made her thoughts hazy. Dot appearing at the door and beckoning to her was the most pleasing thing that Phryne had seen all night, and she tottered over to her with a smile, her shoes being flung by the front door carelessly, and her slipping into the kitchen with a laugh.  
“Yes Dot, dear? What’s occurring?”  
Dot stifled a laugh at Miss Fisher’s strange wording, and without a thought to it, carried on with why she had called her out in the first place.  
“Did you invite Hugh to your gathering, Miss? And the inspector?”  
A furrow formed in Miss Fisher’s brow, and she played with the pin on her scarf.  
“Yes Dot, I think so, the inspector- of course I invited the inspector!” a pink blush spread across her cheeks, and this didn’t go unnoticed by her companion.  
“I don’t know why they’re not here yet though, maybe Ja- the inspector changed his mind. Do let me know if they turn up or not.” With that, she turned on her heel (her actual heel, for her shoes had long since been shed), and left Dot in the kitchen.  
“Miss?!” She called out after her, and Miss Fisher turned back.  
“Yes Dot?”  
Dot picked at the corner of her dress.  
“Maybe don’t drink any more, Miss.”  
Miss Fisher laughed, and turned away without a word, returning to the parlour and swiftly grabbing a drink from Mr. Butler. Dot sighed- at the rate Phryne was going, no one in the house would be allowed to make any noise before two in the afternoon the next day. 

The clock ticked on, nine, ten, eleven, and the outside world fell dark. By this point, Phryne had danced with every man, talked to every woman, and eventually found herself sat on the chaise, playing chess with a man who had identified himself as her father’s lawyer’s boss’s son, or something along those lines. Her mind was fuzzy, her chess moves were awful, and her head was elsewhere. When the door was pushed open to allow more people into the party, she thought nothing of it, and Dot, who was letting the two men in, pulled one of them aside.  
“She’s in a strange mood tonight, inspector.” she murmured, already hanging onto Hugh’s arm.  
“Who? Miss Fisher?”  
Dot nodded, and pointed out the myriad of empty glasses that sat on the table near to where Miss Fisher usually sat.  
“She’s been drinking a lot, doesn’t seem herself, seemed sad earlier when she was getting ready. She’s not herself, but I asked Mac earlier and her professional opinion is that she’s pining.”  
Jack let out a laugh.  
“Pining? For what? Miss Fisher has everything that she desires, or so I’ve been lead to believe!”  
Dot shrugged.  
“Who knows. She was asking after you though, she’ll be glad to see you, I’m sure.” With that, she pushed Jack into the room, and pulled the door closed behind him, sealing off the society from the servants. 

Jack took a drink from a passing tray awkwardly, and smiled at Mr. Butler, taking off his hat and holding it under one arm. He muttered a few hello’s to people who seemed familiar, and eventually, Phryne had looked around the room and spotted him, her face truthfully lighting up for the first time that whole evening.  
“Jack!”  
She stood up quickly, and without thinking, went over to him and threw her arms around him, hugging him for a couple of seconds, before drawing back and smiling up at him.  
“Hello Jack.” She let out a gentle sigh, and stepped back to give him space. In her rather drunken haze, she wasn’t thinking about what she was doing, and to her, Jack was simply the epitome of perfection that she had been dreaming of while getting ready.  
“Miss Fisher.” his voice was low and rough, like he had had a long day, and wasn’t at this soirée of his own choice. Collins had dragged him to Wardlow as usual, his unpredictable lovesick haze and lack of a car meaning Jack had to accompany him, which... wasn’t all bad.  
Jack had warmed to the lady detective long ago, their few shared kisses always being something that he cherished. He knew that they both adored spending time with one another, and that there was something, but goodness, she was Phryne Fisher! She’d never settle for someone so low as him, even if that was what he wanted the most. 

His mind was drawn back to the present by Miss Fisher dragging him over to the chaise, her hand a surprisingly firm grip on his own. She tugged him down onto the seat, and sitting down next to him, crossed her legs underneath herself, her dress riding up to show a little more skin than usual. Jack found himself drawn to looking at it, blocking out the sound of everyone else in what he considered to be ‘their’ parlour. The firelight from the grate cast a soft glow on her skin, and she was laughing about something, a carefree nature that he was not usually privy to see, making an appearance.  
“Isn’t that so funny? Jack, isn’t that funny?” she leant across and stroked the lapel of his coat, looking at him with big eyes, a mix of pleading and... adoring?  
Jack had no idea what she was talking about, and nodded absently, thinking about something else.  
“Miss Fisher, have you been drinking?”  
Phryne giggled, and pulled at his lapel again, rolling her eyes.  
“Of coooooourse not, Jack!” the way she clipped the ‘k’ of his name sent shivers down Jack’s spine, and he ignored it, turning back to face Miss Fisher once more.  
“...Are you sober?” he asked, knowing full well that she was anything but.  
Phryne pouted in that half heartedly playful way that she tended to, and butted her head into his shoulder.  
“I’m moderately functional, Jack!” she replied, and leans into his shoulder, running one finger up and down his cheek.  
A breath caught in the inspector’s throat, and he didn’t dare move, not wanting to take advantage of this situation he had been thrown in to, but at the same time, not wanting Phryne to move.  
“I’ll take that as a no.” he said softly. 

A gentle sigh escaped Phryne’s lips and she stilled, the party carrying on around them. Jack inhaled sharply- there were high society people here, and the honourable Miss Fisher couldn’t be seen half asleep on a civil servant’s lap.  
“Miss Fisher. Miss Fisher.”  
Phryne mumbled sleepily in return, and Jack stood up slowly, sliding her off of him.  
“Come on outside, you need some air, or- something.”  
With the mention of leaving the room, Phryne stood up and Jack extended his hand to her. She took it gratefully, and wrapped her arm through his like a vine as they headed outside. As they exited, Jack caught Dot’s eye and smiled at her. Perhaps the evening would close with Miss Fisher being happy rather than... pining? 

The two of them sat on the bench on Wardlow’s front porch, and Phryne tucked herself into Jack’s side, shivering slightly as the cold air hit her. Her dress, as pretty as it may be, was insubstantial, and Jack was quick to shrug off his coat and drape it around her. She immediately cuddled into its warmth, and placed her head into Jack’s lap, lying down. He didn’t say a word, and started to stroke her hair gently.  
“Miss Fisher, can I ask you something?”  
A barely visible nod was sent in his direction, and she looked up at him with her blue eyes wide and caring. Jack didn’t waste a moment getting to the point, his voice gentle and his hand still caressing her head as she lulled into the gentle state before sleep.  
“Miss Williams told me you seemed out of sorts lately, other than when you’re at the station, and that you’ve stopped seeing any men?”  
Phryne sighed softly and closed her eyes to avoid Jack’s own gaze.  
“They never meant anything.” She said quietly, vulnerably, softer than she had spoken to him ever before.  
“I decided that I wanted something to... to mean something for once.”  
Jack raised an eyebrow.  
“So there’s someone you want to be with... indefinitely? Miss Fisher, I don’t understand what you mean. That’s never what you’ve wanted.”  
Phryne grasped for his hand and her held hers carefully, like she was a dainty china doll that might break.  
“Dorothy said you seemed like you were... pining for someone.”  
Phryne chucked.  
“Dearest Dot, she’s starting to spend too much time with the detectives.” she said with a smile, and after a pause, she opened her eyes and looked at Jack.  
“You.”  
Jack didn’t even have to ask what she meant, and lifting her hand to his mouth, pressed a gentle kiss to her palm.  
“The feeling is mutual, Miss Fisher.”  
With a smile, Phryne closed her eyes once more, and soon, her breathing was slow and steady. Jack kept his hand in hers, and looked up at the stars that graced the Australian sky. He had never truly noticed them before, but then again, and as with most things. They seemed to shine a little brighter when Phryne Fisher was around. 

Though they will both deny it, Mr. Butler found both Jack and Phryne asleep on the bench when he went to lock the gates at one in the morning. He tucked a blanket around them with a smile, not wanting to disturb them, and Dot pushed a few pillows behind the detective’s head. It didn’t go unnoticed by either of them that Jack’s hand was still entwined with Miss Fisher’s, nor that, even asleep, she seemed the happiest she had been in months.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic number TWO! I can’t belive myself. I found that prompt on Pinterest, hence I shut myself away while listening to Caro Emerald so that I could bring this piece to you with as few bumps as possible. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing, and thank you to everyone for the warm welcome I revived on my last work!  
> If you want to yell at me, or join me for fandom fun, find me on twitter (@martinisandart) or Instagram (@teiganhurst)  
> love, T x


End file.
